


Diamonds Are Forever

by titianiumkitten



Category: Stray Kids (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Father, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Brief Blackpink Appearance, Brief Red Velvet Appearance, Child Abuse, Kim Seokjin | Jin Is a Good Hyung, M/M, Min Yoongi | Suga is So Done, Park Jimin Needs a Hug, Park Jimin centric, Prince Jeon Jeongguk, Prince Jeon Jungkook, Prince Kim Seokjin, Prince Park Jimin, Prince Yang Jeongin, Prince!jimin, Yang Jeongin | I. N. Should Have Popcorn At This Point, bangtan sonyeondan - Freeform, bts - Freeform, namjin - Freeform, vkook
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2019-08-25 13:36:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16661979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titianiumkitten/pseuds/titianiumkitten
Summary: Prince Jimin is almost ready for the throne, but he needs a consort (or many). Pretty much anyone with a pretty face who he can pay to stay by his side for the next fifty or sixty years.Yoongi refuses to be bought and wants to play the game.Also, Seokjin should probably do something about the man that perches on the tip of the Royal Bank’s spire and watches him every night.inspired by diamonds are forever by sabrina carpenter and a random tumblr post I sent to tusaisbts





	1. Before

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tusaisbts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tusaisbts/gifts).



When the King wished for a son, he got his wish fulfilled three times over.

Prince Jeongin, the youngest, was the one the country fawned over. The cute one that everyone loved.

Prince Jungkook, the second youngest, was the poster child. His face was on the posters, plastered everywhere, advocating for empty promises.

Prince Jin, the second oldest, was the beautiful one. He keeps tabs on the people with his pretty face and playful facade.

Crown Prince Jimin, the oldest, was the heir. And he was perfect.

So when the King died and his last wish was for all his sons except Jeongin (someone had to be innocent) to marry, Jimin came up with an entertaining, broken way to win favor and break hearts. That was his way; rise and thoroughly break every competitor.

He had too much of his father in him.

So he called all the firstborns in the region of Busan (he’d always liked the water) to the palace in hopes of winning the hand of one or more of the royalty.

They could always share, after all.


	2. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> god I can’t believe I straight up wrote 4K words in planning in one day  
> ———  
> enjoy this crossover

Yoongi stopped believing in fate when his mother died.   
He knew, because he stopped breathing the moment he found out. Waking up in a room too clean and bright with something permanently broken in you grounded him in the sense that either fate was cruel beyond belief or nonexistent.   
At least the upside was that he could do whatever he wanted with his life because there was no longer a plan set out for him.   
So Yoongi found what he loved and threw himself into it. Trying desperately to fill the missing hole in himself was harder than he thought.    
Music became an escape for him (a rather expensive one, he’s not gonna lie.) The saxophone samples drowned out his thoughts, and being ridiculously busy didn’t let him have enough time to dwell on the things that made him feel pain.   
He really didn’t care that much about politics, and the ‘royal scandals’ that people gossiped and whispered about as if nobody knew but them.   
But what Yoongi did care about was knowing when something concerned him.   
“Oi, old man!” Yoongi’s neighbor yelled from his own porch. Yoongi rolled his eyes as he paused his pocket search for his keys, expecting the same conversation they always had.   
“Felix, how many times do I have to tell you that I am literally twenty-five years old—“   
Felix rested his arms on the white railing of his wrap around porch with a shit-eating grin on his face. At least Yoongi could count on something being normal. “That makes me seven years younger, old man. Now, have you seen the tabloids?”   
“No, and I don’t want to hear about your obsession with Prince Jungkook’s abs ever again.” Yoongi sighed.   
“I literally said SOMETHING about that ONCE!” It was Felix’s turn to roll his eyes. “Guess.”   
Yoongi scoffed. ‘And why should I care, exactly?”   
“Get this—“ Felix loudy whispered. “They’re getting married.”   
“Married? I thought I’d never see the day.”   
“Oh, cool it, old man; you’re just jealous.” Felix huffed.   
“You also never gave me a chance to guess.” Yoongi retorted, grabbing his keys at last. He turned back to the door and unlocked it, pulling the pine green door open with a creak betraying its age. He threw the keys onto the small glass table in his tiny kitchen and crashed face first into the charcoal colored couch (really, the couch was one of the most expensive things in the entire house.)   
About then was the exact time when his thoughts pushed at one another in competition for his time pondering them; anything from what eating fried flying fish was like to his soft spot for the 18 year old boy next door.   
Yeah, actually, he did have a soft spot for the boy. He just reminded Yoongi so much of what he could have been. Happy and—well, happy.   
Those types of thoughts always triggered something in him, something in him that reopened the wound that never closed. Those thoughts set fire to the bandages he had carefully layered over time, meant to staunch the bleeding.   
So Yoongi avoided those thoughts by getting up, putting on a girl group song  he liked (it was Twice’s DTNA), watering his plants and treating himself to French toast. With garlic, of course, and he didn’t give two shits about what anybody said about garlic on French toast.   
Nor did he care if his toast burned while he danced the choreography accurately in his living room.   
\---   
Only his brothers could fish out the real Jimin.    
Not his biological mother, not the advisors, not the crying fans who kissed his feet.    
Only Jeongin and Jungkook and Seokjin. They were the only ones who allowed him to feel without pain.   
He wouldn’t call it love, though.   
Did he even know what love was? He certainly hasn’t felt it towards his father—his father was more of a god to be worshipped.    
Oh, he wasn’t a virgin either, but he hadn’t felt anything like love in his many escapades. Seulgi, the brown haired maid who cleaned the ballroom floors was one of his favorites.   
But when he soothed Jeongin in the middle of the night or gave Jungkook lessons, the sparkle in his chest...maybe that’s what Jimin’s supposed to be looking for.     
But he didn’t have time to dwell on that— he had a country to run, people to meet, events to plan.    
So he buried his heart under a thousand sheets of granite and ignored it.   
Being weak was not for a king.   
\---   
Seokjin first saw the person three nights ago.   
He was trying to go back to sleep after a particularly terrible nightmare and turned his head to look out the window. White, almost silver looking moonlight bounced off the quartz windowsill and illuminated the room. The moon was full and bright that night, large and heavy looking, filling the sky with no stars. At this point, Seokjin knew all the shadows of buildings by heart, dark splotches outlined in the palest blue. He could see the gardens spread out beneath and in front him, the when a shadow he’d never seen before caught his eye.   
On the first night, he held his breath—as if the figure with nearly inhuman balance could hear his panicked breathing.    
_ Who was watching him? Why? And how could they crouch, easily balanced on the flat tip of a spire three hundred meters up in the air?  _

Jin nearly passed out from lack of oxygen, questions racing through his head almost faster than he could process them. The person’s coat flapped out behind him, creating an eerie but sort of wondrous undulating pattern. Their hair was swept up a little to the right, lightly curled and catching the light in a manner Seokjin had never seen before.   
Eerily captivated by the man, he stared for a while.   
He didn’t say anything about it the next day at breakfast, when they clarified the plan about ‘King’s Hand’ (so they called it) or during his walks with Jungkook. He figured it was a wild dream, a figment of his imagination.    
But then the figure was there again that night.   
And the next.   
And the next.    
\---   
Work was no stranger to Taehyung.    
He’d worked every job he could possibly think of: stable boy, receptionist, barista, bartender, street performer, street sweeper, personal servant, housekeeper, you name it.   
He never stayed too long in working one thing, three weeks at best.   
But he kept the job at the castle because it paid well, he had an excuse not to come home, and he could ogle the royals.   
Covertly, but ogling nonetheless.   
His favorite was Prince Jungkook. He reminded Taehyung of a rabbit, but one he would feed carrots and lettuce and give lots of love.    
A sunshine demeanor on a beautiful body with endless talents. What else could Taehyung ask for?   
But he was just a peasant who loved things he could never have. Too much.   
\---   
Hoseok and Changbin, the fairies of Hanguk, appeared when they felt like it.   
Slipping in between realms was tricky business, even for magic beings.    
So when Jeongin heard they had come, he hurtled down the halls.   
Changbin heard before he saw the eleven year old kiddo.   
“Hoseok and Changbin-hyungs!” The call echoed down the hall as the two fairies floated down the halls, not touching the carpet while remembering how Jimin had given them hell for all the glitter last time they were in the castle.   
Hoseok fake sniffled and yelled back, “Jeongin? My angel?”   
Changbin just laughed at his antics while watching Jeongin careen around a corner, gripping the wall. His hair was light brown, with a small section sticking up in a ponytail.   
“Hyungs!” He stopped running, slowing his steps so he could wave at the two fairies hovering a meter and a half in the air.   
“I would come down, but Jimin would give us hell for it.” Changbin huffed. Then he straightened and asked, “Where’s Jimin, actually? I have to congratulate him on getting married!”   
Jeongin shook his head. “He doesn’t even know who he’s going to marry! He’s doing some sort of stupid competition—“   
“Oh mY GOD CHANGBINNIE HE’S DOING A SELECTION!!” Hoseok screeched, cutting off the magic he used to hover up in the air and landing next to Jeongin with a dancer’s grace.    
“A what now?” Changbin followed suit, preferring to walk among the humans instead of drawing stares while floating. But Hoseok and Jeongin had taken off, practically flying down the hall and rounding the corner.  _ Birds of a feather _ , he thought, and took off after them.   
\---


	3. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is the first fic I’m actually emotionally invested in that I wrote  
> I also don’t have an update schedule so there’s that

Now that fall back had passed, Yoongi’s constant rise-with-the-sun routine had to be stopped.

There was literally no way he could get enough sleep.

Sure, if it was a weekend he would be fast asleep at six in the morning. Matter of fact, he’d be asleep for most of the day.

But no, Yoongi had work to do, and back when he was an intern he’d foolishly written that he would ‘love to take any early hours’ instead of late ones in hopes of being hired.

Oh, he was hired, but he also got all the early hours. Monday’s seven-to-four was the absolute worst. Seven was plenty early for him.

So Yoongi grumbled about sunrise being too early and picking a stupid career before tripping over a thick bundle of cords in the watery morning light. Blue and purple tones shone through the spaces in the blinds and made his white shirt look a bit like stained glass.

“Psh. Stained glass? That’s best your sleep deprived, anxious, early morning brain could think of?” Yoongi scoffed to himself, shaking his head. He carefully walked out of his room (trying not to trip on anything this time) and opened the door to a blast of chill air. It was November, after all.

Yoongi backtracked, reaching for his cream colored sweater. After that, he was all set to brave the day and possibly exhaustion induced hallucinations.

He called a Huber and got out a couple blocks away from his office, stopping to buy coffee (and a croissant, because he considered himself sophisticated) and then heading for the warm grey building on the right side of Taeyeon avenue.

————————

Jimin’s mornings were completely different than Yoongi’s.

Around ten am, two maids would come and wake him up, quietly and efficiently. Then he would stare out the window at the lush garden while eating his customary breakfast of a fried egg and toast with blueberry preserves, accompanied by sparkling juice (his father’s favorite).

After that, he would dress and attend court from eleven to one, before the luncheon at one thirty.

Today, he dressed in tight black pants and a black velvet jacket with silver spiderwebs sewn from the cuffs all the way up the sleeves and loosely threaded across the lapels.

He would never admit it, but dressing fancily made him feel like he deserved the life his father planned for him.

At three, he would have an hour of free time, usually spent reading the new American books that were shipped in on Thursdays (he particularly loved the Sarah J. Maas books that he stole from Jungkook.)At four, he and his brothers would meet in the room that Seokjin used and talk (read: his brothers gossiping and him trying to stay on track).

By five thirty, he would be squirreled away in a random study in the east wing, working on royal decrees and paperwork that he shared with his brothers, mostly Seokjin or Jungkook. The reason it was a random study was because—well, the house fairies had a habit of showing up whenever they wished.

The first day, Hoseok and Changbin were unsuccessful in finding Jimin.

The second day, they recruited help.

“Ah, Jungkook, you were always too gullible.” Jimin sighed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get any work done with so many people in his study. Today, he’d gone to his own study, just to trip out anybody who came looking for him. The mahogany floor was always shining and spotless, waxed by some random servants he didn’t know the name of. The deep cerulean on the walls had gold flecks in it, something Jimin had specially requested after his father died.There was no way he could’ve gotten something so beautiful when he still had his father.

“Jimin hyung! So rude!” Jungkook draped his lean body over the peach couch a couple feet behind the (wheelie) chair Jimin was sitting in. Hoseok flew in faster than said person in chair could see and tackled Jimin out of the chair.

“Jimyin!”

“Don’t call me that!” Jimin yelled, surely alerting the entire palace to to his turmoil. “And get off me!”

Hoseok turned his head back to Changbin, still standing closer to the door after shutting it. “Can you believe this boy?”

Changbin snorted and replied, “I can when you’re practically sitting on him.” to which Jimin added “RIGHT?!”

Hoseok solemnly used magic to right himself, backing away from Jimin and dusting himself off and mumbling about young mortals. Not that he had anything to dust off of his golden suit, fitting him nicely even after six hundred years. With the black bucket hat, it totally emitted Hoseok. Changbin was Hoseok’s understudy, in a silver suit four hundred years old.

“Amazing that those scraps of fabric haven’t fallen apart yet.” Jimin remarked, smirking and re-attaining scraps of his dignity.

Hoseok shrieked and hugged himself. “It’s real gold! Real gold!”

Changbin sighed and put a hand on either hip. “Why do I always end up being the peacekeeper?” Jungkook also mumbled from the corner while rifling through the liquor cabinet, “A day in the life—hyung, where are your white wines?”

“Jungkook-ah, you of all people should know I only drink reds.”

“Like the blood of your enemies,” Hoseok giggled, and even Changbin snorted.

Long story short, Hoseok’s hat didn’t survive the day.

————————

After another exhausting day of writing out patents and researching for Jiyeon’s (his department head) next big case, Yoongi was very prepared to go home.

However, he had responsibilities.

He went to the candy shop around the block and bought lollipops and cotton candy, along with an assortment of blue gummies. The toned, large, cinnamon skinned woman behind the counter was already glowering, but the effect was kind of canceled out by the large plastic bag with yellow lettering chock full of gummy sharks and bears.

“Ah noona, I feel so honored that you already picked it for me.”

“Yoongles, shut up. You make me feel old and your teeth are going to rot soon.” She sighed and rested her elbows on the mint green and gold counter. “That’ll be be fourteen thousand won.”

“Hara, it was twelve thousand yesterday! You raised the price!” Yoongi protested, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Well, Yoongi if you would tell me who this is going to-“

“We already talked about this!! It’s a SECRET!” The current parents tugging their kids were beginning to give the quarreling adults weird stares and looks. Yoongi sighed, deeply, and pulled out his debit card.

————————

Nobody, not even Felix or Hara or even any of his coworkers knew about Yoongi’s second job.

It’s not that he didn’t want to talk about it or he was embarrassed it’s just that...it’s not something brought up in small talk.

Maybe he was a little embarrassed.

He walked into the driveway of the beaten up, two story house with dark green flecks of paint flying off whenever the wind blew. Yoongi could smell the sea and hear the port. The porch was still holding up, white paint holding on valiantly. The wooden stairs creaked when he walked up them.

Someone saw him coming and threw open the faded curtains in the window. “Min!”

Yoongi’s face shifted into a gummy smile. “Hi, Nina. Where’s Inej?”

The seven year old girl beamed at him. “Inej is in the back, working on dinner with Kaltain and Elain and Nesryn.” Yoongi gave her huge piece of cotton candy, and Nina smiled so widely he was sure she would strain one of the muscles in her mouth.

Yoongi held the door as Nina rushed back into the warmth of the house, then stepping inside himself. The scene was pretty close to normal: Wylan, the baby, crawling around and staring at him from the ground, Nemia sketching something close to crab, Ness peeking her head her around the wall to see what the sudden spike of noise was. Wendy was probably out in the dense tangle of bushes, ‘exploring’ and Ella with herbs in her mouse brown hair like Verity, except flour for the raven haired girl.

“Guess who brought candy?” Yoongi called out, and instantly had the attention of all that could hear him as he walked further into the house and rounded a corner. The kitchen, now fully visible, was a mess of flour and chopped vegetables and an oversized, boiling pot sitting on a burner. Inej, the head of the household, was watching the pot and trying to convince Wendy to come through the back door instead of through the window.

How she got up there, it escaped Yoongi.

“Yoongi! Oh my gosh, thank you for coming!” Inej rushed over and gave him a slightly crushing hug, careful not to get her flour caked hands all over his favorite sweater.

Yoongi put his hands on either hip. “You say that every time I come, which is every day.”

————————

Taehyung was really nervous today.

He had been assigned to replacing the sheets in Prince Jungkook’s room.

Really, it was the opportunity of a lifetime, being able to breathe the same air as his idol, his role model.

So there he was, shaking as he made the bed. His teeth were chattering from the force of his anxiety, and he couldn’t remember how to breathe. Taehyung sat down and curled up, putting his head to his knees. His stomach also ached, as he took the bus instead of walking today, yesterday, and the day before. If he looked in the mirror, he wouldn’t recognize the too pale, too skinny and gaunt face that stared back.

Taehyung vaguely registered humming and the faint whine of hinges on a door opening, and footsteps muffled by the same thick carpet he was curled up on. He was likely hallucinating, like he usually did when he stayed up all night from hunger and thirst while his father drank and wasted all of his precious money.

“Hey, are you okay?” A blurry figure waved a hand in Taehyung’s face. Taehyung didn’t remember when he started crying but wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

“I’m fine.” He croaked out, trying to get to his feet but head spinning. Upon closer examination, the figure appeared to be Jeon Jungkook.

He was definitely hallucinating.

But then the figment of his imagination touched him. His hallucinations usually didn’t have warm hands—

A realization washed over him right as a sharp pain in the back of his head made his sight go dark, and a very confused Prince caught him by the shoulders.

————————

Yoongi had spent a few exhausted but happy hours at the shelter, before his phone began to ring.

He checked it, surprised at who called him.

Felix?

Yoongi tapped the answer button and spoke into the phone. “Felix, what’s happening—“

“Old man, you need to get home right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> scream at me on my tumblr of the same name (@titianiumkitten)


	4. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> YES YES I KNOW I SHOULDVE UPDATED TWO DAYS AGO AND THIS CHAPTER IS A SHORT FILLER SO DONT COME FOR ME  
> but exam prep is killing me \;__;/  
> I’ll try to update on Sunday okay

“What? Felix, explain please.” Yoongi frowned, crinkling his brow. He had the perfect frown, because of muscle memory from long nights mixing and layering tracks but not getting it quite right.

“Sorry, they won’t let me say anything else. Just get here!” Felix was able to squawk out before the line went dead with three beeps.

Yoongi made sure not to crush Wylan (who was dozing and drooling on his shoulder) or let him fall as he got up and stretched, trying to relieve tension in his shoulders. He had been napping with Wylan on his shoulder, after eating the wonderful stew the older girls and Inej had made. At some point Kaz, Inej’s husband, had settled in the rose-colored loveseat near the fireplace, reading a newspaper.

Kaz, not looking up, droned, “Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty.”

Inej’s voice echoed through the house in response. “If you have the nerve to tease Yoongi, you best believe you have the nerve to come and clean the dishes you ate off of!” Kaz sighed and put aside the newspaper with ‘ROYAL REVEAL! MARRIAGE?’ printed as the headline and limped into the kitchen.

Yoongi swore things like that, things he didn’t care about, just followed him around.

“Nej, I gotta go. My neighbor just called me with a really cryptic message.” Yoongi trailed after Kaz and wrapped his hands around Inej. Even though her ink colored hair got all in his mouth, not in its usual braid, she gripped his forearms which made it totally worth it. “Okay, Yoongs, stay safe!” She turned away with soapy hands, dark eyes sparkling. “For some reason, my hands are always covered in something when you come!” Her laugh, high and tinkling, reminded Yoongi of wind chimes but not as annoying.

Not nearly as annoying.

————————

After convincing Nina to let go of his leg, Yoongi stepped out into the chilly air. His teeth chattered together and he warmed himself by blowing on his hands. He really needed to get a winter coat.

At long last, his Huber arrived in a red SUV. The tinted front window rolled down to show a smiling face, blonde but otherwise identical to the grey haired man in the profile picture.

“Hi, mate! I’m Chan, Bang Chan! And you must be—“

“Min Yoongi.”

“Yes! Min Yoongi.” Chan continued talking as Yoongi opened the door and sat down in the black leather seat.

His car was...a little strange.

As Chan started up the car and the GPS, Yoongi started to take in his surroundings. Just to gauge how dangerous his driver might be, and how he’d escape if the situation became violent. Yes, he’d heard the horror stories of people who had been attacked and kidnapped by revolutionaries disguised as drivers.

Yoongi scoffed. Revolutionaries. People who thought they actually had power against the monarchy. He was pretty neutral on the topic, but he drew the line at young kids throwing themselves into the front lines of bloodbaths that could be easily avoided.

“You good?” Chan raised his eyebrows at the frowning male next to him. He almost looked like he was...sulking.

Yoongi waved off the comment. “I’m fine.” He continued his surveying. Chan wore three rings on his right hand, all silver with flowers engraved on the front of each. An Australian flag magnet with silver thread attached was hanging from the inside mirror, along with a mirror image Korean flag on a gold thread. The words ‘Stray Kids’ were written into the visor in red marker, something that Yoongi couldn’t explain to save his life.

The ride was short, with little conversation exchanges between the two. Police lights flashed, bouncing off his house and into the rear view mirrors. Felix looked really cold, rubbing at his arms in sweatpants and a orange T-shirt. He looked and met Yoongi’s eyes before looking at the driver, a flicker of recognition flashing over his face before going back to his signature grin. It happened so fast Yoongi didn’t even know if he had imagined it.

“Yoongi-hyung!” Felix shouted and started running at the car. Okay, something was definitely up.

“No ‘old man’? Nothing?” Yoongi asked while stepping out of the car after swiping his credit card.

Chan smiled, sadly, meeting Felix’s gazefor another split second. “Hi, Felix.”

Felix looked away, ignoring him and begging Yoongi for the jacket he didn’t have on him. Chan would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt a little, chipped away a little of his heart. He reached over and shut the door before driving off into the night.

————————

“Felix! What happened?” Yoongi put his arm around the frozen boy. Felix’s teeth were chattering worse than Yoongi’s. Men in black uniforms and masks with royal patches sewn to the breastpockets. Royal soldiers, then. Yoongi hated them almost as much as the revolutionaries. Killing children, those brutes.

“I-hhih-t’s real-ly co-old,” Felix chattered out, not wanting to act like a baby but also wanting to be cradled. Deep down, Yoongi was a good hyung who could help him. And also tolerate him stealing body heat.

“Why didn’t you grab a coat on your way out?” Yoongi asked, every bit the fussing mother. He checked Felix’s forehead and neck for fever.

“T-they tol-ld me t-to come out-t immediately.” 

“You!” Yoongi whirled on a man, on the younger side with slightly curled dark hair and amber eyes. “Why didn’t you let this man get a coat? Why are you making us wait out here? Explain yourselves!”

“M’sorry, sir. Can’t disclose information on the orders of the Crown.” He replied, with his eyes shifting, the only sign of his discomfort.

Hugging and slowly freezing, Felix and Yoongi stood in the November night chill for another ten minutes before a man with the body proportions of a stick stepped out of the front car. Seriously, Yoongi could say he was willowy and that would be generous. He was the boniest person he’d ever seen, and his skin was pulled tight over his face.

“Are you all...Lee Felix and Hwang Yoongi?” He asked, cocking his head.

“Min Yoongi. And yes, this is Lee Felix.” Yoongi deadpanned, not about to be taking any shit. He was cold and tired and it was nine thirty.

“I’m going to need you to come with us to Seoul.” A guard passed him a clipboard on which he checked something off.

“Okay, please get in car two, right here.” Bag of bones gestured to a sleek limo. Felix, bless his gullible soul, moved towards it as Yoongi stayed right where he was.

“C’mon, hyung! Didn’t you hear the guard? This is royal business!” To all the guards and bag of bones, it looked like Felix was just talking, excitedly, about getting in the car. But Yoongi didn’t miss the silent mouthing. “ _Think of the consequences.”_

So Yoongi sat his ass down in that limo and sighed as the three hour drive started.


	5. Four: One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DONT COME FOR ME PLZ EXAMS BLAME EXAMS

The trip was just as long as Yoongi imagined. Felix passed out from exhaustion in the first thirty minutes, and found Yoongi’s shoulder a better pillow than the few plush ones  scattered around.

Right. They were being taken to Seoul, in a limousine, by people who claimed to be working for the Royal family. He’d believe that when he saw Prince Jeongguk walking up and giving him a handshake.

If he hadn’t been so bored, he might not have noticed that the car was slowing down. It came to a stop at the top of a hill, in front of a house and front lawn big enough the be called an estate. A small figure in a pink sweater carrying a small purse dashed out the front door, heading straight for the limo.

Yoongi couldn’t blame her (him? them?). It was fucking cold.

Unlike them, this newcomer was treated with actual respect. Some guards bowed, and the door was opened immediately. Yoongi huffed as another wave of freezing air whipped into his face. He faintly registered Felix smacking his lips together before yawning and falling back asleep. He was still a little baby, apparently Yoongi’s baby now.

He locked onto the stranger crawling into the seat across from them, who flashed them a blinding smile. “Hi! I’m Minho! Lee Minho, I mean.” Minho looked, well was really pretty. Not in the way Yoongi was attracted to him, he was just...

God, it was hurting his head to think about it. He rubbed a hand over his face. He was getting too old for bullshit and pretty people. “Hi, Minho,” he managed to croak out. He sounded pathetic, lord save him.

Minho wasn’t fazed. “Can I call you hyung? I’m probably younger than you. I’m twenty!”

“Yeah, whatever you want,” Yoongi responded. Minho was a good actor, sounding bright and content. But his actions, his habits were what betrayed him. He curled up into himself a little once Yoongi looked out the window, he could see it in his peripheral. His hands fidgeted with each other, wringing and popping knuckles.

Everyone was broken, just a little. That was okay to him.

————————

If there were the top three things Jimin could he hated, he’d say his father, dreaming and getting woken in the middle of the night.

Two out of three. Two out of three in one night. At least he knew about one, but who could predict dreaming?

At least it wasn’t a bad one this time around. There were ones where he relived every second of torture and pain that his father brought upon him, ones where he broke bones over and over and over and—

Okay, he was getting carried away. He couldn’t think about it too long, or it would come back.

Everything would come back.

But he sat, playing a harpsichord, while everything around him burned until he burned too.

You could say he was a bit of a pyromaniac, finding some sense of cleansing or peace in burning to death. When he died, he wanted to be cremated, so he wouldn’t be bound to the terrible things fate brought to him and sit to rot in the mausoleum next to his father.

No, Jimin wanted to be burned and scattered into the wind, so he would never have to share anything with his father ever again.

————————

It was an odd sleeping schedule for the royals.

The contestants were supposed to be ready at the toll of the midnight bell, so the royals practiced going to sleep early and waking up early.

Jin barely slept, Jungkook barely slept, Jimin barely slept, and Jeongin slept like a newborn.

The maid that had collapsed in his bedroom took up most of his thoughts. He had called the nurses immediately, holding the sickly man the entire time. He was obviously malnourished, with obvious bruises showing on his face and arms. Hollow spaces were large beneath his cheekbones, along with dark pockets under his eyes. In summary, he looked exhausted.

But somehow, he was still beautiful.

Jungkook couldn’t explain it, how someone who was being wheeled away could still be the most beautiful person he’d ever laid eyes on.

That occupied his thoughts a lot, but it was mostly the fact he didn’t even know his name.

He was smitten with a man who’s name he didn’t know.

————————

Jin, also, was having a crisis over the names he didn’t know.

The man was still there, only at night but hard to see with the new moon. Oh, Seokjin had checked every morning to see if he was still there, and every morning he was met with nothing.

The man liked to mess with Seokjin. Some days, he would lift one leg up and balance on one foot. Some days,he would twirl in circles, around and around just to tease Seokjin, watching with his eyes open at the agile man in dark clothing. At this point, Seokjin barely gave a shit that he was being watched.

He told himself to stay alert, stay vigilant because the man up there could kill him, easily. The window’s light reflected onto almost the entire bed.

Sometimes Seokjin thought it was like that because his father couldn’t care less.

Anyways, he didn’t even know what to call the man. ‘The man’ could only last so long and ‘Black Coat’ sounded stupid. Yep. That was about the extent of names he could think of on the spot.

He’d give it some thought (instead of sleeping).

————————

The day arrived, eventually.

Jimin woke right at nine, with leagues of stylists rushing in through his doorway. They set up an impromptu studio before splitting into three groups: hair, makeup and clothing. Two servants helped him into a cashmere robe, placing a hot cup of tea in his hand and ushering him into a chair.

Hair went first, as it took the longest. They combed through the dark brown and bleached it yellow, over and over until it was as white as could be. Then they mixed silver powder into the dye’s base, applying it and covered his head in metal strips.

By then the clothing ‘department’ had found, ironed and brought back his military uniform. One person trailed the mini procession, carrying a beaded box full of his medals. He stood up, waiting for them to hand him the white button up and embroidered jacket. They clipped his medals over his heart and snapped the shoulder pads with tassels on.

Jimin caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror while he sat down again, hearing the shuffling of the hair and makeup people coming back from wherever they had waited. He looked...pretty.

Funny how these same makeup artists had covered up the bruises on his face, shaped like hands.

They swept brushes across his face and painted details, rolled something wet and glossy over his lips. Metal was removed and ahot iron went through his hair.

And then it was over, just as fast as it began. A tall mirror was brought in so he could inspect himself along with his crown and sword. A different crown than Jimin’s usual. His usual, a plain gold band that went across his forehead and a pure-carbon-diamond-shaped-glass-encased gem on the front, had been deemed to casual for the occasion. Instead of that, a gold, ruby encrusted crown shaped to look like flame sat on a velvet pillow. He took it in his hands before turning and facing the mirror.

This was it. An end and a beginning. Jimin set the crown on his head, and a fire was sparked in his heart.

No one could touch him now, and if they did?

He’d smile when they burned.

————————

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this? was darker than I anticipated?? also I broke this chapter into two parts that’s why it says four:one


	6. Four: Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fam I’m literslly so sorry for this unannounced hiatus,,,  
> exams well and truly steamrolled me into the ground and I was having a hard time writing for most of December,, I hope I can get at least one more update this month and two in February.  
> we’ll see, my fam

Okay. These guys are for real.

Inner Seoul gleams and glimmers as far as the eye can see—actually, no, from as far as where Yoongi can see. Everything looks dipped in silver paint, dripping and shiny and beautiful. Silver was such an underrated colour, at least to him. Large braziers lined the streets, an out of place yet pretty tribute to the old days of Korea. Most of the buildings they passed had the image of the full moon reflected in it, the only thing illuminating the darkness.

Felix, by the way, was still sleeping and the new kid (Minho, his brain supplied) was doodling with pink and black pens in a sketchpad. This was where the nobles and wealthy lived, and Outer Seoul was much more like Busan. A little more trashy, but still a decent part of the city.

The big steel spire National Assembly building was just barely visible over the tops of buildings. The people living in those apartment-skyscrapers probably had a kill worthy view. Not that Yoongi was a photographer, he just wasn’t stupid.

As far as he knew, he wasn’t stupid.

He watched the news, he knew the Royal’s faces, he knew their names. He had mediocre social skills and took some etiquette back when he was in high school. He could swim, he could sing, he can play the piano, he could ride a bike. All in all, not too shabby.

They rounded a corner and came into full view of the palace, Jayu. Jayu was a force of nature, the 12.5000 acres of it sprawling out over light forest and primly trimmed grass before stopping at the base of the rolling hills that weren’t quite mountains. Most of it was steel and quartz, but some were still iron and marble from years back. Yoongi couldn't lie, seeing the towers and quartz undulation with his own eyes was...an experience.

The huge iron gates fit for only for a palace groaned open, the only sound that in the night other than the faint hiss of engines. A huge fountain of flame sat squat in the middle of roundabout before the glass doors connected to the actual palace.

Seriously, there were like thirty security checkpoint they had to stop at before they actually got into inner Seoul. Like, what the heck? Why are there three checkpoints in between them and a forty-foot steel wall?

Anyways, Felix woke with a shudder after Yoongi slapped him upside the head, who completely done with any bullshit that might come his way. Yes, he was younger than the Crown Prince, but he could slap him upside the head all the same. “Owwwww, hyung!” Felix whined. God, he could really go for whisky on the rocks right now.

Yoongi flicked him. “Stop whining.” Minho giggled in the corner, looking slightly uncomfortable. Felix chose that moment to finally notice the newcomer, his signature shit eating grin starting to appear on his face.

Yoongi turned back to Minho with a sombre. “I am sincerely sorry.”

“What?”

“Oh my gosh hi! I’m Felix! This is Yoongi! Your hair is so pretty! What products do you use?”

Minho now looks twice as uncomfortable now, being bombarded by questions. “Um...thank you? Your voice is super deep?”

Felix usually gets that. For such a fetus, he had a really fucking deep voice. Like, beyond twenty-three leagues under the sea deep. Yoongi himself was shocked when he met the seventeen-year-old boy a year ago.

“Ah, thank you mate!” Felix’s beamed as his Aussie accent popped out.

A heavily armed guard swung open the door, and Yoongi wiggled his legs in anticipation of being able to stretch out his aches. This new guard, a female one this time, was broad in the shoulders but very skinny. Yoongi thought she had a nice smile. “Out you go!”

Her uniform was also much nicer than the other guards he’d seen recently, more stylized and aimed for beauty as opposed to utility.

They were escorted by a whole gaggle of new guards, which was totally unnecessary in Yoongi’s opinion. Really? Armed guards for walking ten feet?

The big, glittering glass doors were opened, and the three boys stepped into the next part of their lives.

————————

“Where’s Jeongguk? We have somewhere to be,” Jin exclaimed, sorta pissed and agitated. Jimin hadn’t said a word all evening, Jeongguk was nowhere to be found, and when he came to his room, there was a note that just said Namjoon on it. The fuck?

Jeongin, however, was completely oblivious to the fact that they had a dilemna, passing his time being carried on Hoseok’s back. “Yah, Hoseok, put him down! We can’t have him breaking his neck before this event!”

Hoseok mimicked him. “Yah, Seokjin, stop being so uptight and relax. Seokjin scowled at his rude behaviour. Honestly, fairies these days could be a pain in the goddamn ass.

“Changbinnie-hyung? Do the thing!!!” Jeongin shouted suddenly, which was met with a faint smile from Jimin and a yelp of jesus fucking christ from Seokjin.

A faint smile grew on Jimin’s face as he murmured, “Seokjin-ah, watch your mouth around the baby.”

“The thing?” Changbin asked in the meantime from the tail end of their party, listening in on the bickering at the front. They was strolling down the Upper East corridor toward the Center Address Balcony, above the throne room.

“Yeah! The thing!” Jeongin opened his eyes really wide and wiggled his fingers out in front of him.

Changbin sighed. “The thing you’re talking about is a complicated rank 2 only cantrip that I spent literally decades perfecting—“

“Yah, Binnie, just get to it.” Hoseok complained. “We dont have time for this!”

“God, sometimes I wonder why I ended up with you as a mentor,” Changbin murmured as he opened his third, fourth and fifth eyes. Their outlines were faintly on his forehead in silver and his eyes flowed like molten metal.

He blinked once, twice, and went back to normal. “Jeongguk is in the hospital wing.”

“Why the fuck is he in the hospital wing?”

“Well, Seokjin, you should open your spiritual eyes and check.”

“God, you’re so frustrating!!”

————————

Jeongguk was, in fact, in the sick wing.

And he was, in fact, stalking the boy.

You know, that boy. The one that he couldn’t stop thinking about to save his life.

The boy whose name he didn’t know.

Anyway, there he was, sitting in a hard plastic chair in an empty hospital room with machines beeping away in his periphery. Hehad been sitting there for the better part of an hour, and there was one recurring thought in his head: What in the actual name of God was he doing?

He began to feel uncomfortable after that thought had run through about eighty times. Jeongguk was ogling somebody he had no relation to before November 21st, and even then it was by coincidence.

One hour turned into two, and by the time two turned into three he had been attacked staff wielding brushes and combs. He woke with a little jump, a bit disoriented and confused why powders were flying into the room—wait—

“Ack! Sterile environment! STERILE ENVIRONMENT!” He started to screech. Surely these idiots knew you weren’t supposed to spread loose powders in a hospital—

Okay, backtrack. Where was he exactly?

Jeongguk checked his watch and yelped. “11:30?!” He bolted for the doors and flew down the halls, racing against time and praying not to be killed by Seokjin.

————————

Jisung was pretty used to sneaking around in the dark. That was his specialty.

He crept towards the open window of a castle room, his all black outfit blending in with the dark sky. All he had to do was sneak through, hide and kidnap the duchess that the room belonged to. Chan has given him this mission (even though he technically answered to Namjoon) because he knew what Jisung was good at.

And also because the older needed a lift these days. The poor guy was still broken over his ex-girlfriend.

 _Please_ , Jisung thought. Chan _screamed_  gay.

Anyway, it was easy to oil the hinges so the window slid closed without a sound, and it was easy to sit in a dark corner and wait.

And wait.

And wait.

————————

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y’all already know Jisung is finna get his ass kicked


	7. Four: Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> heyyyy...iss yo gurl  
> unfortunately the brain cells in charge of keeping time all died and i didn’t update in time! yay me !  
> meanwhile, i’ve been falling into the hyunin trap so i changed the storyline but here a proper, actually on plot chapter!  
> mwah~💕

Everything was in place, but Jimin knew.  
Something was different, something was off-balance.  
Usually he got this feeling when he messed up in front of—no, he was the king now. Thoughts like those made him weak.  
It might’ve been the fact that he’d would be sharing a house with two hundred fifty other people. It might’ve been that he was alone, his brothers talking to the ministers while he stared out the window. It might’ve been the fact that he wouldn’t take someone he would love.  
He’s pretty sure all the maids are in love with him, although he’s only heard the words ‘I love you’ through whispers. Deadly whispers, that is.  
He’d visited the graves yesterday, early in the morning. It was still grey and wet from the day before, and he laid a small pebble in the bowl before the unmarked stone. Nobody had been suspicious when the body went missing because _Jimin_ _was_ _perfect_.  
\---  
Yoongi liked his stylist. Wendy was pretty and nice, with yellow-blond extensions and pouty face.  
Right, as soon as he’d walked through the door they had been ushered into a grand room filled with smiling stylists in aprons so he could be ‘presentable’ on national tv _and_ make a good impression on the Crown Prince (King? Titles were complicated.)  
“Eh,” Wendy said after a brief survey, “You’re going natural.”  
“Brown?” Yoongi sqwaked out. “I haven’t gone brown since high school!”  
Wendy stuck out her tongue. “Too bad.”  
Oh yes, Yoongi liked her.  
Felix, however, was having a ball. He was chatting (nonstop, might he add) with his stylist who was painting a carrot orange into his dark hair. The stylist had a long face, dark hair and a square jaw, scrunched up in concentration as he tried not to stain Felix’s scalp. “Wonwoo! Toss me the bleach!”  
Wonwoo. Pretty name.  
“Wow. My own personal stylist, turned against me! Felix, help me out here,” Yoongi ended his complaint with turning his head towards Felix.  
Wonwoo flipped his hair out of his eyes with a toss of his head. “Say no.”  
“Sorry fam,” Felix said.  
“Why is everyone against me?!” Yoongi groaned in frustration as Wendy dragged his chair towards a bowl with a demonic smile.  
\--  
_beep_ - _beep_ - _beep_ - _beep_ -  
Inhale.Taehyung startled back into existence.  
Oh, how boring it was getting, floating in the carcass of his mind. It was mostly just him sitting a white room days, weeks. Hours? Seconds?  
Who knows, it could have been anywhere between a lifetime and a blink.  
And he was sitting in that room, and after a while shimmering mirages of people started materializing, floating in and out. His father. His mother. His second year English teacher who told him he was nothing.  
After all of those thoughts ran through his head in under a millisecond, he started fighting to wake up.  
He clawed and he scratched and he hissed at the darkness; he fought it with everything because he could fight back.  
Not like when he came home too early and his father hadn’t left yet; or when his mother put on Sunmi one day and disappeared. Not like he sat in silence when his teacher denounced him.  
No; something told him to get out, to refuse this. Because he could, he could refuse it. Instead of embracing the darkness he could fight it, fight tooth and claw.  
Because Taehyung refused to go back, he refused to go back into that white room and /think about what he’s done wrong./  
No, he tore the walls of the room like paper; shredded through the works of his imagination, the _you’re_ _not_ _good_ _enoughs_ and the _you’ll_   _be_ _never_ _be_ anythings. They were little but flies swatted aside.  
So Taehyung fought.  
\---  
While the princes were talking and going over what to do, Changbin has pulled Hoseok over to the side.  
“Hobi, we have one big-ass problem.” He said, but in tones higher than simple humans can hear.  
“What is it? A monster? Ooh, I hope it’s a monster. I haven’t killed a proper dragon in over a century!”  
“No, it’s not a purebred dragon in the sewer system like in the holy temple of Tibet. I’m reading two signatures.”  
“Code?”  
“One Orange, one purple.”  
“I’m sorry, what?”  
“I said an orange and a purple.”  
“Together?”  
“You wish.”  
“I legitimately do.”  
“No, you fool. They aren’t together.” Changbin let out a sigh that he knew was the first of many.  
Hoseok, on the other hand, looked excited. “So are we kidnapping them?”  
“Dear god, no. I’ll go undercover, you will...”Changbin interjected. Sometimes he wondered how exactly he learned so much from his chaotic mess of an elder.  
\---  
_Fuck_ _this_ , Yoongi thinks to himself.  
When Wendy was done she had dragged him to a mirror and smiled at her handiwork. “What d’you think?”  
Yoongi sighed. His ass hurt from sitting in that chair so long, but he couldn’t exactly say that. “Was the makeup really necessary?”  
“Do you want to look like a flop?”  
“No?”  
“Then shut up.”  
Yoongi grumbled and almost cracked a smile as he started to actually examine himself in the mirror.  
Hmm. He still liked his blonde hair better. The brown made him look...not /soft/, per say, just younger. More innocent. The corners of his lids were dusted with a brown-ish red (maroon? Is that what maroon was?) and his pimples were gone. Poof.  
And Felix—holy shit. Felix’s normally brown hair was orange.  
The makeup made him look older, older and _angular,_ his cheekbones were prominent and very out there. His eyes were sparkling and smoky on the lids.  
“Holy crap! I look like a carrot!” He practically squealed out. This kid’s vocal range was no joke.  
Wonwoo laughed. “You still censor your curse words?”  
“Yes, or Yoongi-hyung will slap me upside the face and mumble ‘Language, kid’,” Felix deadpanned.  
“Damn right I will,” Yoongi replies without missing a beat. Wonwoo doubles over, cackling as hard as Yoongi had ever seen someone cackle.  
“Get up, hoe.” Wendy’s voice rang out with a pleasant undertone. “I’m getting you dressed.”  
Yoongi noticed his chair had wheels right as Wendy grabbed the back of his chair and dragged him out of the room.  
\---  
Some random noble came across Minho in the hall and now he was talking to this sniveling, nasally and stuttering bitch.  
“L-lee Minho! How is y-your mother?”  
“Fine.”  
“H-how’s life?”  
“Fine.”  
“O-okay,” the guy finally seemed to get the hint and checked his watch. “See you l-later!”  
“Um, whatever.” He would probably been smacked back home for acting like that, but he wasn’t at home anymore.  
Right. He wasn’t at home.  
The guards seemed to have acknowledged his status and had already taken his bags up to his room, and his quiet stylist gave him clothes and did his hair. Not that there was much to do, being that everyone had to be in a white jumpsuit (god, it reminded him of that time he acted in that movie District 9) and his hair was already styled. Mrs. Lee was no joke.  
Anyway, now he was wandering the halls, looking for the grand balcony where they would be watching the royals enter.  
To say that Minho was a fanboy would be...a polite and weak way of saying it. He knew their faces, their names, their astrological sign, their way to speaking, their interests, the list could go on for days. Minho has been told he met Jimin, Jungkook _and_ Seokjin when he had been born, before Dad left and Mom—  
Okay, no. He was not about to have an emotional breakdown before he met his idols. He peeked through a slit in a huge oak door and checked for other people dressed like him.  
A voice echoed in the hall behind him. “Hey, whatcha looking at?” A distinct, high pitched voice of an old friend.  
“Kim Woojin.” Minho said as a small smile fought its way onto his face. “It’s been a long time.”  
“Ha, no kidding. I had almost forgot what your ugly face looked like!” Woojin came into Minho’s sight at last, definitely missing Minho’s muttered insult about bears. His smile made him look even more like a bear, a type of oddly adorable bear at that.  
“Anyway, where were you going? I’m headed to the grand balcony,” Woojin remarked as Minho came to his side.  
“Ugh, I have no sense of direction.”  
“Then how are you a dancer?”  
“You right, you right.”  
\---  
It was a sea of white jumpsuits and hopeful faces.  
Faces wishing for riches, for fame. But only few wishing for love, to be loved.  
Jimin was not one of them.  
He saw the part in the curtains, the cameras, the crystal balcony. Seokjin tapped his shoulder. “Are you sure?”  
Jimin squared his shoulders.  
- ~~NonononononoStoppleasedont~~ -  
“Forever.” 


	8. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *rubs hands together*  
> aight, i promised y’all a bitch kick, you’re getting a bitch kick.  
> for all of my Well Then fans here, this past week was our spring break and we have almost two chapters pre-written! now, we are on the last stretch to finish up our school year (which ends May 31st) so we are trying to get as many chapters as possible pre-written before we drown in a sea of exam prep. thank y’all so much for understanding and waiting so long!!!  
> love y’all, and enjoy the chapter! :*

 

Yoongi didn’t exactly know what to expect, but that man up there was _not_ it.

Yoongi was expecting an ugly, short, and pimpled man because no normal or even _pretty_ looking man could have been in possession of enough money to cover an entire ballroom floor in gold.  
But here he was, transfixed on the silver-haired man that was surveying the crowd like it was something displeasing.  
Three other men—well, two other men and a child—stood behind him, with blank faces. _How_ , Yoongi wonders, _or what must be done to a person to make them that way?_

The silver-haired man snapped his hand out and grabbed the microphone stand with a ferocity, a familiar type of ferocity Yoongi knew too well. Felix jumped a little at the sudden aggression, but the man’s face changed so quickly into a serene expression that it left the two wondering if he had even moved at all.  
And, this not being Yoongi’s top priority at the moment but this man was a literal angel. His face was glowing, his lips were round and pink and his hair—it was _silver_ and combed perfectly.

  
“Hello,” the man’s lilting voice bounced around the huge space through hidden speakers. An unexpected voice for such a severe man. “I am here to welcome you all here tonight. Or might I say, today.”

Almost as if it had been summoned, the room vibrated with the tolling of a huge clock in the back garden. It rang with the other ones, stationed at each corner of the estate.

  
The light changed as the man went on. “Today, we gather to honour the memory of my father and the dawn of a new era he leaves in his wake.” A smattering of applause. “Today, I will be taking the first step towards filling the space my father so _righteously_ ruled.”  
_This man,_ Yoongi thinks to himself, _has anger. And that makes him dangerous_.

\---  
Taehyung was no longer sinking, which was one really nice improvement from the last time he was mostly conscious but not quite awake.

  
He was still under, but it was more of a ...peaceful setting (if being underwater could even be described that way). Taehyung thinks his face is facing the sun, because there's a white patch that glimmers and ripples among the tones of blue that make up most of his sight. _Is it normal to hallucinate while unconscious?_

He didn't know, but if his family wasn't so poor he would've gone to medical school and university, and maybe he would know the answer to those questions if his family cared about him. Leaving your family just wasn't an option, so he tried to avoid his father as much as possible and give him enough money for soju bottles each week so that the shattered fragments of the old bottles wouldn't be in him instead.

  
Happiness was a luxury to Taehyung, who knew this peaceful dream of white-gold sun and calming waters would dissolve as soon as he brought home the hospital bill.

  
\---

  
After a short and fiery speech was delivered from Crown Prince Jimin, a short and fiery man, the boys and girls were divided up into groups based on room location. They were then taken over to an addition to the palace where the 132 original contestants would stay in place of the normal dukes, duchesses and diplomats would reside.  
_Lee Chosun, 224._

_Lee Felix, 226. ”Ah, that's me!” Boy #1 from the limo earlier stepped forward and grabbed his four keys._

_Lee Minho, 228. Minho was glad they got four keys, knowing he would probably lose one or two of them in the first couple of days._

The elevator ride was uneventful other than the fact it was excessively long, and Minho casually strolled towards the door with _228_ burned into the oak.

  
Everyone around him seemed to have no problems at all with their keys and closed the doors behind them quickly, probably settling in for the night.

  
Minho, however, had always had troubles with digital things and locks. Locks were awful.

  
So, he stood there, thirty feet away from a soft bed and a hot shower with a digital swipe key and a stupid lock that wouldn’t open.

  
_Swipe. Access denied._

_Swipe. Access denied._

_Swipe. Access denied._

  
Being so done with this whole situation, Minho smacked the lock out of frustration with his delicate hand while hissing like a cat. “Open, bitch!”

  
The lock crackled with electricity for a split second before flashing green.

  
_Access_ _granted!_

 

Minho, who was too deprived of beauty sleep to question the whole situation, gave it ten heartbeats then pushed open the door. _God, this white jumpsuit is so uncomfortable but well designed._ His pale yellow suitcases were sitting by the bed, all five of them, and he was just ready to hop in bed and fall asleep when his skin _prickled_ .

  
And the hair on his arms stood up as he turned around and ducked as an _actual knife_ flew over his head.

  
\---

  
To be completely honest, Jisung was bored as hell.

  
He assumed this mission was gonna be all ‘oh no! i’m a damsel in distress and i’m too petrified to scream for help so i’ll just sit here and be tied up by this criminal!’, but his ‘damsel in distress’ couldn’t use a fucking key card.  
_A goddamn key card. A key card!!_

What he got, however, was a really sketchy magic user who had no control over their powers and a really, really hot guy.

  
Like, don’t get him wrong, but if someone can literally look like they walked out of a skincare commercial while ducking from a knife sailing over their head, it’s this guy right here. And Jisung is very gay. And did he mention Hot Guy was hot?

  
Jisung squared up. An easy fight, this was going to be an easy fight. But seriously, he would let this guy kick him in the face if he wasn’t trying to escape. Hot Guy fucking _smiled_ at him, he smiled at Jisung and all his plans went out the window. _Well shit._ He was whipped and all it took was straight white teeth, sparkling brown eyes (do eyes even sparkle?) and pink lips.

He straight up froze when Hot Guy opened his mouth instead of squaring up. “Hi, I’m Minho! Nice to meet you!” His voice is like Tinkerbell’s, he is wearing a candy floss pink sweater, what the actual _fuck_ was going on.

  
Jisung went back to standing normally, feeling just a tad awkward in his dark clothes and dark belt with all his nice knives on display. “U-um, wha—“

  
Hot Guy (now known as Minho) squinted a bit at Jisung, finally beginning to understand the situation. “Yeah. I might as well get to know you, I mean, if you’re going to kidnap me. It’s happened way~ too many times before this. Was the window the way you came in? Cool. Just, personal request, could you tie my hands a little loose? Sometimes the rope chafes my delicate wrists.”

  
Jisung, his brain having been turned to mush, wasn’t exactly sure what to say or what to do. “Y-you, what? I’m sorry but wh—“

  
And that, my friends, is when Lee Minho roundhouse kicked an unsuspecting Han Jisung in the face.


	9. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hi,,,,  
> welcome back with this fukin 2.1k MONSTER  
> hold onto your weaves, my bitches  
> (side note: all well then fans; set your calendars for june 1st 🙈. we’re coming back from hiatus.)

“Alright,” said the royal photographer. “You all are good to go!” The photographer, a soft-nosed middle-aged woman was oddly cheery despite the fact it was three o’clock in the morning.

 

Jeongguk, however, was absolutely, fingers crossed, one hundred percent about to die. From lack of sleep, that is.

 

His makeup was also fading a little. All of the concealers in the world couldn’t hide the dark spaces under his eyes forever. Sort of sucks.

 

He also didn’t want to wake up at seven to have tea with his mother. To be honest, the only person he hated more than that clown-looking consort was Seokjin’s mother, and that was because Seokjin’s mother was a full-blooded bitch.

 

Thankfully, shit personality doesn’t always run in the family. (There’s always Jeongin.)

 

God, sometimes he swore it was all a dream. All of it was a dream and none of them, especially Jimin—

 

Oh god.

 

Why did he let Jimin take over the speech? That was obviously a bad idea, but now that Jimin could assume the power to do....terrible things?

 

“Yah, JK, you okay?” Seokjin patted his shoulder, turning away for just a second before freaking out as Hoseok walked through the walls and snatched Jeongin up. “Hoseok!! Come back here this instant!”

 

Jeongguk sighed. He could always visit the guy in the hospital instead of listening to his brother’s caterwauling.

 

Wait, that sounded really bad. Like, stalkerish bad.

 

He really needs a glass of white wine. And maybe a massage.

 

\---

Taehyung was tired and his eyes hurt.

 

Wait, his eyes hurt?

 

He cracked them open just a tad. Light rushed in through the crack, and it was a little overwhelming. (Nevermind that, it was overwhelming as fuck.)

 

Temporarily blinded, he started checking how well his limbs were functioning. He concluded he was slightly achy (from passing out, he guesses) and the nasty cut on his forearm from the broken bottle two nights was wrapped securely in a weird, gauzy fabric. The sharp and chemical smell of the hospital was a little sickening.

 

Taehyung found it a little easier to open his eyes the second time. In the distance, a sound like a door slamming shut echoed down the hallway as Dr. Wang Sehoon was thrown out of the window and a mirror image of him walked away.

 

\---

Holy shit.

 

Holy fucking shit.

 

How did I end up here?

 

Minho had a not-so-light body draped on him in a room in a castle.

 

This boy had tried to kidnap him.

 

Lucky for Minho, his mother had him go to self-defence lessons every Tuesday and Thursday.

 

One thing his classes had failed to teach him was what to do with the body afterwards. (Yes, he’s aware he sounds like a serial killer, or maybe a killer in general, but you have to understand he wasn’t trained to put up with this.)

 

Minho dropped it, carefully, and then stuck his arms under the shoulders of the boy. He was pretty (when, you know,) he wasn’t trying to kidnap or impale anybody with a knife or something. Vaguely squirrel-like.

 

He slowly dragged him into his laundry room, deposited him in the far corner, and began stripping the boy of his weapons.

 

Serrated Knife. Swiss Army Knife. Boxcutter. Screwdriver. Machete. Hammer. Throwing stars.

Dear lord, Minho thought and sighed. What type of person had so many knives?

 

clink. clink. clink.

 

More weapons and tools came off of the boy, in his boots, in his hair, in his sleeves. Heck, there was even a lockpick sewn into his hat! Minho ended up using the tools to his advantage; tying up the intruder and sailor knotting the whole thing.

 

As he stood up and admired his handiwork, a memory tickled the back of his brain. An American movie he had watched around the age of ten, with the princess with the golden hair who tied up the thief and beat him with a frying pan.

 

Minho had loved that movie.

 

“Teng-uld? Yeah, Tenguld.” Minho rolled the English word around in his mouth, looked over the sleeping, now tied up intruder one last time and exited the room, flicking off the light before going to bed.

 

\---

 

The wind whistled outside the room where Changbin was trying (really hard!) not to bail.

Bailing on what, specifically?

 

Well, he told Hoseok he had everything under control and that he was better at stealth mission than he. Now that he thought of it, he couldn't be farther from the truth.

 

But Changbin can't really go back now (in the metaphorical sense, not in the sense he could just Shift back into his normal appearance with a thought), as he had willingly jumped into this rabbit hole.

 

Also, one teensy tiny problem he could possibly face; the fact he is what humans consider ’gay’.

And just his luck, according to the early count, a crap ton of these contestants were men. (Boys, if you will, some were only babies.)

 

Now, his job was to sniff out the faerie blood in them before they either got a. captured, b. sold or c. killed altogether.

 

Changbin slapped his thighs as he stood up, something that might look random or quirky to most, but it gave him a weird sense of comfort.

A forgettable but pretty servant guided him down grandiose hallways made of ivory and stone and gold, carpets of thick wool and solemn statues. Empty arches coming down from the ceiling and open to the sky allowed a breeze, silky tapestries floating.

 

Serene. Calming. Glorious.

 

It was quite the shame that it was all an illusion.

 

\---

 

Head down, Seungmin lead the powerful faerie down a hallway. He’s using a bit of his power to distract the faerie, enough that the faerie probably wouldn’t notice and probably not gut him if he did.

 

That’s the thing about forma aldatzeko— they can shut their magic down at will. The faeries, however, spewed their magic out into the void endlessly. It was simply wasteful.

 

The edges of his vision started going white, and Seungmin started to panic. Not now, of all times—

 

“Erm, hello? Are you okay?” Of course, he read the energy change, god I’m such an idiot—

White flashed before his eyes again. “Yes,” He took a deep breath and smiled. “I am fine, your honour. Your room is here.” He gestured to the right. The faerie stepped in, silently, and sealed the door behind him. Seungmin walked casually, back towards where he came from, falling a little every time there was a blinding flash, flashes that were coming more frequently and with more intensity.

 

He mentally notified his counterpart about where the drop zone was, and upon getting a single note in response, Seungmin began to hobble towards a floating piece of silk hanging in an empty stone arch about fifty meters away.

Whenever someone passed, he ducked behind an arch or camouflaged into the pale colour of the marble arches along the way.  He looked out into the dark abyss of the at least seven-story drop, felt the cold wind whip at his face. Suffered through a flash ripping through his body. He grabbed the silk and buried his hands in it, gripping it.

 

Now, came the voice in his head.

Seungmin swung into the spread of stars and fell like Icarus toward the dark blur under him.

 

\---

 

Jisung had an internal clock.

 

It was one of his abilities, one of many. That ability is exactly why he could tell you his jaw hurt like a bitch and also that it was four o’clock in the morning.

 

Four o’clock in the morning, otherwise known as the pre-ass crack of dawn.

 

And somehow, somehow, a kid in a pink cable knit sweater had knocked him out with a single kick to the head. Fuck pink cable knit.

 

Remembering that fact made Jisung sit straight up rather abruptly, causing his bones to pop in some very uncomfortable places. He looked around (err..tried to) and felt cloth rub his face. What the fuck? Where am I?

 

He wiggled a little bit, feeling up the bindings around his arms, legs and wrists. Damn it. He could feel the twist of the rope (especially where he couldn’t cut through it because all of his knives were gone.

 

“Fuck,” Jisung cursed the cloth hanging in front of his face in the darkness. 0, Jisung.1, Pink Cable Knit.

 

After a while of silent contemplation and imagining twenty different ways Chan would beat his ass for getting caught, he fell asleep again.

 

\---

 

The second time Jisung woke, it was about eight in the morning. The sun had risen already. But, as the saying goes, there’s no rest for the wicked. He was dead set on making as much of a racket as he possibly could for his captor, hoping he would be too much to handle and just be released. He wiggled and hopped and turned from side to side, but the most sound he could make was a dull thump when he landed after a hop.

 

After what’s seemed like an eternity, light came pouring in to his right side, and sick of darkness, Jisung swiveled his head into the brightness.

 

Bad decision.

 

Jisung’s pretty sure he just fried his retinas with the intensity of the beams that hit his face, but the silhouette that that casted the shadow at his feet was unmistakably Pink Sweater. 0, Jisung. 2, Pink Sweater.

 

Pink Sweater giggled as Jisung tried to blink the pain away, then moved closer to him. Actually, he got quite a bit closer to him: squatting down right in front of him.

 

He was...really pretty? He wasn’t wearing pink, though, today he was wearing a light blue button down which was a little tight in the arms but he could ignore that for long enough to meet his eyes.

 

A dark chocolate color, Pink Sweater’s eyes bored into his soul.

 

And then he felt it.

 

A little tremor in his heart, in the ground, and he could have sworn that Pink Sweater’s eyes swirled with a lavender color before going back to the chocolaty brown.

 

But, unfortunately for Jisung, he had a habit of saying things out loud when he was really freaked out.

 

“Okay, so that was creepy as fuck.”

 

Pink Sweater laughed, and then stood up again. “You look dehydrated. I’ll bring you some food and water as soon as I can.”

 

He started walking away, but being Jisung, he had to always get the last laugh. “So? Am I your hostage or whatever?”

 

Pink Sweater stopped in his tracks. (1, Jisung. 2, Pink Sweater.) He looked over his shoulder, and his soft jawline was stark in the backlighting from outside the room Jisung was stuck in.

 

“Do you want to be?” He said, with a steely tone.

The words rang through Jisung, and he knew he wouldn’t forget the drastic change in manner any time soon. He immediately shut up, and stopped any other snarky comments from sneaking out.

The door clicked shut, and Jisung was alone in darkness again.

 

\---

 

Though they hadn’t asked Yoongi to bring clothes with him, these folks sure had an extensive amount of spare clothing.

 

The walk-in closet was huge, as big as his living room, and filled to the brim with designer clothing. Shorts, hats, sunglasses, pants, bags, headbands, earrings, belts, shirts and every other wearable item you could think of was stashed away somewhere in that closet.

 

Yoongi liked black, so he wore black.

 

Earlier, when he woke up (and for once he didn’t wake because of back cramps on a shitty mattress, the mattresses in the palace were wildly comfortable), there was a beautifully crafted phone with a streamlined design and the royal insignia on the back of it laying on the desk he was given, and it had unopened messages on it. Yoongi figured out pretty quickly that it was some kind of pager, one that would give him his daily schedule.

 

Min Yoongi

recommended wear for today: button down, dress pants, dress shoes.

08:00– wake up call

08:45– common room meeting

09:00– breakfast

10:00– general lesson I

11:30– lunch

12:40 through 01:00– time to freshen up

01:15– inspection

02:30– audience with Prince Jeongin (if passed inspection)

04:00– etiquette lesson I

06:00– grand dinner

07:00– magical inspection

07:30 through 09:00– acquaintance making

09:15– night dismissal

see next —>

 

Yoongi checked the time on the device. _08:30_. He tied his shoes, tried to breathe out all of his anxiety, and walked through the door into his new and confusing life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE YOU ALL FOR WAITING THIS HIATUS OUT  
> YES I PROMISE TO CONTINUE THIS  
> pls don’t give up on me (*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)


End file.
